


you remain a mystery (just to him, not to me)

by trustingno1



Series: Season/Series 3 Alternate and Missing Scenes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You could send more detailed texts, you know," Greg complains, yanking back the A&E curtain divider and glaring at Sherlock. "John's been taken to Bart's," he recites, "<i>Rubbish</i>. Absolute rubbish. And answer your bloody <i>phone</i>." </p><p>(3x01 missing scene)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you remain a mystery (just to him, not to me)

**Author's Note:**

> No explicit relationships, but references to John/Mary and some form of John/Sherlock. Title from Wes Carr's _Hurricanes_ , which has absolutely nothing to do with this fic.
> 
> Missing scene in 3x01, after John's rescued from the fire.

"You could send more detailed texts, you know," Greg complains, yanking back the A&E curtain divider and glaring at Sherlock. "John's been taken to Bart's," he recites, " _Rubbish_. Absolute rubbish. And answer your bloody _phone_." 

Sherlock shrugs, unconcerned, eyes trained on John, and the doctor tending to the side of his face. "I prefer to text."

" _Four times,_ I called you," Greg replies, through gritted teeth. "Four times, before I thought to-" he gestures towards Mary, and catches himself; _before I thought to call Mary_ , he doesn't say, because it's _JohnandMary_ now, not _JohnandSherlock_ , and Sherlock glances up, at that, meeting Mary's gaze for a long moment, not looking half as childishly petulant as Greg's expecting, just tired, and resigned, and if he were better at reading women, he'd have at least _some_ bloody clue what Mary's expression means.

(And, well. He'd probably still be married).

John - oblivious to the rest of the room - blinks, dopily, as the doctor finishes up on his cheek.

"We're getting a bit crowded here," she says, glancing from Mary, to Sherlock, to Greg, and Greg smiles, apologetically.

"Scotland Yard," he says, holding up his ID, and Sherlock fumbles for his, holding it up too, a beat later. _Wanker_. "We've just got a few quick questions for John, when you're done."

The doctor nods and turns back to John; behind her, Greg holds out his hand, and Sherlock rolls his eyes, but surrenders the badge.

"Not like I don't have others," he mutters.

"You are a _child_ ," Greg replies, just as irritably, but - _Christ_. He's missed this, he has.

"It's not deep," the doctor says to John, pulling off her gloves, "Probably won't even scar."

John tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. "Cheers," he says.

"I'm more worried about smoke inhalation," she says, nodding at the nasal prongs hanging around his neck, "Oxygen back on, please," and John sighs, but tucks the tubing back behind his ears and takes a couple of deep breaths through his nose.

"Alright?" Greg asks, because a scratch on his head is one thing - and John tries to smile again.

"Just a precaution," he says, as Mary squeezes his forearm, and the doctor nods in agreement, not looking up from the entry in his chart she's making.

"I won't be too long with the discharge summary, Dr. Watson," she says, pulling the curtain closed behind her, and John turns towards Greg.

"I'll be quick," he promises, flipping open a notepad, and John shrugs, easily. "Mary said you were on your way home," Greg prompts.

"Yeah." John clears his throat, then, "I - well. Yeah."

"Do you remember where you were, exactly?" Greg asks. "Or even what route you took? We might be able to pull the CCTV footage."

Sherlock makes a noise of disagreement, before John can answer. "They'll have been too clever for that," he says, and there's a slightly breathless tone to his voice, one Greg knows well, just a little _too_ intrigued, and John's got to know it too, surely, because he shakes his head, slightly, looking at nothing and no-one in particular, but looking like he _remembers_ this and for once in his life, Sherlock shuts his mouth.

"Still worth a look," Greg says, in the pause.

"Mycroft's men would be faster," Sherlock murmurs, only semi-grudgingly.

"And less _legal_ ," Greg points out.

" _Legal_ ," Sherlock scoffs, and John half-smiles into his lap. "Such a nebulous concept."

"It's really not," John says, looking up, and he meets Sherlock's gaze, smile slowly fading.

Sherlock's perfectly still beside Greg, hands behind his back, and John looks away first.

"Sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "What were you-"

"Do you remember where you were?" Greg prompts, again, and John hesitates and Sherlock's watching Mary's thumb softly stroking the inside of John's forearm, and this curtained cubicle feels too small for the four of them.

"Uh. Baker Street, actually," he says, a little stiffly, and Mary's hand stills.

"Right," Greg says, and Mary's staring at Sherlock, and Sherlock's staring at _John_ , and John's staring at _Greg_ and this, this is ridiculous. The rest of this can just fucking wait until tomorrow. "I'll - you know. See what I can pull from the cameras."

"They're not important," Sherlock says, "The men." John raises his eyebrows, like he begs to differ, and Sherlock amends, "They won't know anything. Probably won't even know the name of their - employer."

And, look. He's probably right. But there's _procedure_ to follow.

"Been a while since I've had a good, mysterious kidnapping," John deadpans. "You've been back in London twenty-four _bloody_ hours ..." and he doesn't notice Mary smile, very slightly, at Sherlock, who blinks, looking almost chagrined, because this has to have _something_ to do with Sherlock, it _has_ to

(it always does)

until John adds, just not quite sarcastically enough, "I've really missed _this_ , too."


End file.
